


Schmoof

by trufflemores_Glee_fic



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shenanigans, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores_Glee_fic/pseuds/trufflemores_Glee_fic
Summary: A handful of fluffy untitled drabbles in one nifty box.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! After receiving multiple requests to repost my old Glee fics, I have created a second AO3 account to do so. I hope you can forgive me for flooding the Glee pages over the next few days. 
> 
> I also ask for kindness regarding the quality of these fics. Over on my main AO3 account (trufflemores), I have written over 150 Flash fics; end result, my current work is of a higher quality than these older pieces. But I know how beloved old fics can be, and I respect that something I consider sub-par can be someone else's favorite. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this fic and any others you choose to read. If you choose to do so, I would also be happy to have you on board 'The Flash' bandwagon as well.
> 
> Kick back, relax, and enjoy. You have been one of the greatest audiences I have ever had.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> trufflemores

"Whoa-my god put me down right now Anderson."

"Anderson-Hummel," Blaine corrected cheekily, yelping when Kurt smacked his shoulder.  "Ow!"

"I will flay your bow tie collection if you do not put me down this second," Kurt warned, flailing ineffectually in his grasp.  He might have wriggled free, too, if he hadn't had a twisted ankle.  Either way, he still managed to clock Blaine in the chest with his elbow, startling another grunt from him as he started up the stairs.

"You can't actually convince me you want to hobble up three flights of stairs," Blaine said primly, balancing in his arms with a surprising amount of ease.  Loftily he pointed out, "Besides, I thought you would have trusted me by now given all the times we've had shower se - ow!"  He loosened his grip on Kurt in retaliation, snickering when Kurt immediately tightened his fingers around his shirt in response.

"I'm burning all your bow ties," Kurt said.

"Uh huh."

"All of them," Kurt insisted, looping his arms around Blaine's neck as he continued to climb the stairs.  "Especially the red ones."

"Why the red ones?"

"Because you already own too many red polos.  And if you won't let me touch those, then I'm definitely getting rid of the bow ties."

Blaine hummed in acquiescence as he scaled the final flight of stairs, digging around in his pocket and pushing open the door to their shoebox apartment.  "Ta-da."

"I hate you," Kurt said succinctly.

Blaine settled him down on the couch with another hum, kissing the top of his head once playfully.  "Strawberry or butterscotch?"

"Ooh."  Kurt winced, stretching out his legs thoughtfully as he said at last, "Strawberry."

Blaine toed off his shoes and got Netflix set up, playing an old episode of Downton Abbey while he fetched the cheesecake from the fridge.  Crawling onto the couch beside Kurt with two plates and forks, each adorned with a slice of strawberry cheesecake, he handed one to Kurt and grabbed one of the blankets to drape over his own legs as the show started, Kurt's running commentary kicking in almost immediately.

"I'm still mad at you," Kurt reminded him some time later as he rested his feet on Blaine's lap, relaxed and pliant and halfway through Blaine's slice of cheesecake.

Blaine rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss him, careful not to let the cheesecake touch his new gray cardigan as Kurt curled his fingers in it instead, his fingertips even warmer than the fabric itself.

When he pulled back enough to watch the slow smile spread across Kurt's lips, Blaine kissed the tip of his nose and said, "You could never stay mad at me."

Kurt hummed, ready to protest that, one hand trailing along Blaine's arm absently.  "No, I couldn't," he agreed at last, and Blaine kissed him one last time before sinking back against the cushions in contentment.

Their apartment was truly tinny and their budget was pressed, and most days of the week they were too stressed to even acknowledge each other beyond monosyllables and quick kisses, but moments like these - sprawled on the couch together, drunk on each other's presence - made everything worth it.

Twisted ankle and all.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine knew Kurt.  He knew how many cups of coffee it took to get Kurt through his busiest mornings, how long he showered when they didn't need to be anywhere, how he relaxed in his arms whenever he hugged him from behind.  He knew Kurt's favorite scarfs, his favorite foods, his most lovingly handled fashion magazines.  He knew that Kurt was a light sleeper, comfortable in his own skin but still reserved around their friends, and fond of warm summer nights and Broadway premieres and the newest edition of Vogue.

But mostly he knew Kurt's moods.  And he knew the difference between sulking and disappointed and something in-between when he slid the door to the loft open and stepped inside, greeted by silence.  "Kurt?" he called, toeing off his shoes and hanging his coat on the rack before bee-lining for their bedroom.

Kurt didn't stir as he pushed the curtain separating the two spaces aside, curled up on top of the blankets in his work outfit.  Blaine cringed sympathetically at the thought of how he would react once he saw how wrinkled they were, his brow furrowing with concern when Kurt slept on.  Not wanting to wake him, wary of disturbing his fleeting repose, Blaine approached the bed with the intent of adjusting the sheets, pausing when he noticed the abnormal flush to his face.

Oh.

"Baby?" he said, sitting down on the bed beside him and gently cupping his cheek.  Kurt nuzzled the palm of his hand with an inquisitive hum, eyes still closed but attention evidently focused on him.  "Hey.  Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kurt said sleepily, shuffling closer to him before pausing.  "Are you staying?"

"Of course," Blaine said unthinkingly.

Kurt nodded and shuffled even closer, resting his cheek against Blaine's thigh and relaxing, snoring softly in seconds.

Blaine reached down to brush his fingers gently through his hair, an amused smile crossing his lips.  He knew that he should get up and see if they had any cold medicine around, maybe get some soup started for dinner.  Kurt would like that.  Blaine loved gifts; Kurt loved gestures.  Tidying up the apartment when he wasn't around, washing the sheets so they would be warm and almost sinfully soft when they slid into them later, and of course, being there for him, with hugs and smiles and coffees whenever he could and, especially, whenever Kurt needed them, was all part of the process.

Sliding down the bed so he could cuddle with Kurt properly, Blaine kissed his forehead and resolved to do it all - later.  For now, Kurt was content and so was he, and that was all that mattered to Blaine.


	3. Chapter 3

"I didn't get in." 

Blaine blinked once, twice.  Three times.  "What?"

"I--" Kurt swallowed hard, waving the envelope as though it could explain what he was struggling to before shaking his head quickly.  "I didn't get into NYADA," he whispered.  He moved to push past Blaine's shoulder and run, but Blaine caught his arm, pulling him into a tight hug before he could.

"Kurt," he said, rubbing his back and sinking to the floor with him as Kurt's legs gave out, keeping him from falling over. "Kurt, honey, it's - we'll get through this.  We'll get through this," he promised, kissing the top of his head as Kurt trembled wordlessly, hands pressed to his eyes and head resting on Blaine's shoulder.  "You are the most amazing person I've ever met," Blaine said softly, kissing his hair.  "You are extraordinary.  You will go places, you will do things, you are going to be unstoppable."  Gathering him closer to his chest, uncaring of the cold tile underneath them, Blaine repeated softly, "We'll get through this.  It'll be okay."

"I can't - I can't go to New York," Kurt whimpered.  "I can't go to New York, I can't live the dream, I can't go to NYADA, I'm never getting out of this hell hole--

"Hey, hey," Blaine shushed, reaching up to rub his back between his shoulder blades with one palm and cradling him closer with the other.  "There's still NYU, and Columbia, and you can always take a year off and work at a diner or something.  This isn't a dead end.  This isn't the end, Kurt."  Pressing kisses to his hair, he insisted, "It's gonna be okay, we're gonna get through this, I promise.  We'll apply to other schools.  We'll find somewhere where you can live - an apartment or a loft or something - you could live with Rachel!"

He hadn't meant to make Kurt laugh, but he did, a slightly strangled noise escaping Kurt's throat as he mumbled against Blaine's shoulder, "Oh, God, can you imagine?"

"Honestly, no," Blaine admitted, still rubbing his shoulders, a little more slowly as a matching chuckle slipping passed his lips.  "Santana mentioned New York, though, too."

Kurt sniffed, a weak laugh vibrating in his chest as he said, "Put those two in the same room and they'll burn down the apartment within a month." 

"I give it ten days," Blaine said, relaxing as Kurt loosened his death grip around his shirt a little.  He sniffed again and Blaine tucked his cheek against his hair, rocking them a little.  "At least now we have the whole summer to make out," he offered, attempting to brighten Kurt's mood.

Kurt didn't say anything at first, leaning up after a moment to kiss him, surprisingly fierce.  Blaine grunted once in surprise before steadying himself with a hand in Kurt's shirt as he kissed him back.  "Don't leave me," Kurt breathed as he pulled away, looking into Blaine's eyes with a sort of wild need that Blaine hadn't seen in months.  "Please, please don't leave me."

"Kurt, I --" Blaine swallowed at the intensity of Kurt's stare, nodding once after a moment and licking his lips.  "I promise," he assured quietly, closing his eyes readily when Kurt kissed him a second time.

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

"I - thought I'd surprise you," Blaine admitted honestly, holding out the bouquet to him and smiling sheepishly.  "Is it too much?  It's too much."

"They're beautiful," Kurt said, waving a hand dismissively and eyeing Blaine curiously, "but you still haven't answered my question."  He idled closer to him, taking the flowers when Blaine held them out to him and looking over Blaine carefully.  "I thought you weren't coming until next weekend."

Blaine rocked back onto his heels, nodding once, before gesturing for Kurt to follow him, retreating toward Kurt's bedroom.  Nervousness melted into excitement at the prospect that Blaine was there, and Kurt followed him willingly, stilling when Blaine pushed the curtain back to reveal the bags already sitting beside the bed.

"Surprise!" he said, visibly brightening as he stepped back into the room so he was in front of Kurt and holding out his arms to take in the scene around him.

There was a beat where Kurt stared blankly at the bedroom, the bags, Blaine.

Then he was throwing his arms around him and hugging him so tightly it hurt, but it felt so good because Blaine was there.

Blaine was there, Blaine was there, Blaine was there.

"How did you--" Shaking his head, he kissed him, startling a squeak from Blaine before he kissed him back, Kurt's own arms looping easily around his neck.  "I can't believe you're here.  This is amazing!"

"So you're - not mad?" Blaine asked, looking up at Kurt carefully.

"Why would I be mad?" Kurt retorted lightly, and Blaine let a smile curl across his lips before kissing him again because maybe it hadn't been perfect, maybe Kurt hadn't gotten into NYADA and they'd broken up and then there had been that horrible, horrible time when they'd been apart - 

But now they were here.  In New York.  Engaged.

And Kurt honestly couldn't be happier.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt shuffled into the loft sleepy-eyed and hunch-shouldered at three in the morning, feet dragging across the floor as he set his bag near the door and made a bee-line for his bedroom.  

He didn't know how he got roped into working on New Year's eve, but someone had had to help keep the restaurant running in the early hours when New York's wealthier clientele wanted to celebrate.  At least the pay had been accordingly boosted, even if the hassle almost wasn't worth it.  Kurt was used to dealing with crowds, but having them pressing in on all sides was claustrophobic, and the chatter had been so loud that it had almost been unbearable.

Luckily, Blaine had provided a welcome distraction from the chaos.  He had sneaked in just before eleven to share a coffee with Kurt on his break, rosy-cheeked and beaming.  Ignoring Kurt's halfhearted protests, he'd then gotten up and serenaded him at the piano while Kurt worked, distracted but happily so.

They had shared a brief, wonderful kiss in a dark, unnoticed corner at midnight, pulling away only long enough to savor the moment before leaning in for another stolen kiss before Kurt had to wheel away or risk being fired on the spot for soliciting customers.

Blaine had stayed for another hour, but the partying had intensified and Kurt hadn't had much time to spare for him.  Nudging him out of his seat - already sleepy-eyed and pliable - Kurt had ushered him through the crowd and urged him out the door, bundling his scarf up around his ears a little tighter before he went.  Blaine had smiled at him with the soft, easy grin that always came naturally to him, even half-asleep, before lifting a hand in a wave and venturing out into the streets to get back to the loft.

In spite of Blaine's absence, the next hour and a half had flown by for Kurt, his attention focused entirely on keeping everyone on the premises happy and inebriated.  By the end of it, he had been relieved to be able to hang up his apron and duck out the door before any of the other waitstaff had devised a reason to need him.

He had a fiancé waiting for him back at the loft, and it had put a little bounce in his step in spite of his exhaustion, making the journey a little more bearable and a little less long in spite of the cold.

But even stepping inside their apartment didn't mean freedom from the cold.  They couldn't afford to keep the heat running all night, so they shut it off after eleven to cut costs.

As a result, Kurt wasn't surprised to find Rachel curled up at Blaine's side on his bed, sharing warmth as they slept.

Kurt couldn't help himself - he smiled.  Blaine was out cold, sprawled on his belly on the mattress wearing Kurt's gray yoga pants and a black t-shirt, one arm tucked around Rachel where she was curled up against his side and the other reaching for a pillow that had slid out of his reach.  Kurt couldn't tell what pajamas Rachel was wearing because she had somehow managed to cocoon herself in all the blankets, pressed against Blaine's side and clearly deeply asleep, her grip lax on his shirt.

Careful not to step on any of the creakier floorboards, Kurt padded quietly over to his dresser and shimmied out of his uniform as quickly as he could, throwing on a pair of red shorts and a white t-shirt before scurrying over to the unoccupied side of the bed next to Blaine.  Sinking down onto the mattress next to him, he hummed as he curled his cold toes against Blaine's sleep-warm calf, feeling it twitch away before he relaxed.  

"Mm," Blaine mumbled, barely awake as he shuffled around and reached out blindly to pull Kurt closer, Rachel still curled up against his back.  Kurt let him, tucking an arm around Blaine's waist so his palm rested against his hip, their feet entangled and Blaine's nose against his collarbone.  "Happy New Year," he murmured sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's skin as Kurt shivered a little in response.

"Happy New Year," he echoed softly, holding him close as Blaine relaxed in his arms, drifting easily back into sleep.  Tucking his cheek against his hair, Kurt closed his eyes and listened to his breaths, soft and warm, echoed by Rachel's on his other side, and couldn't help but smile to himself.

Their lives weren't perfect.  They'd experienced love and loss, pain and sorrow, joy and wonder and all emotions in between.  But, somehow, he knew, they'd make it through the challenges ahead.  And, if nothing else, they had each other to fall back on.

It was enough.  And as Kurt curled an arm more tightly around Blaine, he resolved to savor the moments like this, when nothing else mattered but the dreams that stretched out between them.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine had two settings when it came to sickness: perfect, inscrutable health, and whiny, needy blanket-burrito.

When Kurt stepped into their bedroom at the loft and found tissues littering the floor, he didn't even flinch before bending to pick them up carefully and dumping them in the little trash bin by the door.  Blaine was curled up on his side on the bed, tangled in blankets and deeply asleep, oblivious to Kurt's presence.  Kurt had teased him for being a perpetually heavy sleeper, but he usually slept lightly when he was sick, restless and uncomfortable until medication was brought into the equation.

Glancing at the still-open bottle of Nyquil on the table, Kurt absentmindedly wondered which one of the girls had taken pity on him and brought it as he padded over to his vanity and carefully undid his own bow tie.  Blaine rarely ventured away from his blanket-nest once he reached that particular stage, depending almost entirely on the generosity of others for survival.

Thankfully, Kurt didn't mind running a few extra errands for him, even though Blaine was perfectly happy subsisting on week-old Gatorade and stale crackers when he needed to.  If it meant cuddles and Downton Abbey marathons, then Kurt didn't mind bringing him the occasional aspirin or Tylenol in exchange for sleepy, fever-warm snuggles.

Shimmying out of his gold pants and sliding into a more comfortable pair of yoga sweats, he climbed onto the bed and flicked off the night stand light, sliding closer so he could wrap his own arms around Blaine's waist.  Blaine snuffled a little in his sleep as he scooted back, back-to-chest and breathing deeply.

Pressing a kiss to his gel-free hair, Kurt rubbed slow, soothing circles against his belly, breathing him in and careless of the potential for germs.

He had a fiancé.  Germs didn't matter.


	6. Chapter 6

She's ... beautiful.  Mesmerizing in a way that he doesn't expect.  Affectionate in a way he isn't prepared for, heart sinking to his knees every time she makes one of those irrefutable little grabby gestures at him, mine mine mine.  She has no concept of daddy or papa yet, no need for favoritism -- they're both wrapped around her finger, they both will be, and they can't deny it.

But Kurt has the morning job and it's been three weeks and, as much as Blaine knows Kurt will waken at the slightest hitching cry, he's mastered the art of sliding noiselessly from beneath the covers and padding soundlessly to the nursery.  She cries silently at first, tight fists and scrunched expression, but he's learned to listen for those tiny quivering breaths that precede the wailing, knows to comfort before it can reach a full crescendo.

So he steals away from their room -- their sanctuary, their smallest slice of paradise that Blaine still struggles to embrace as theirs -- and enters the nursery instead, still clad in his pajamas and sleep-ruffled.  She never seems to mind his state of unkemptness, sinking with a comforting familiarity into his arms as he hush-hush-hushes her quietly.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he assures, voice lilting as he bounces her a little, hoping to keep her quiet.  "Are you hungry, angel?  Here, here, I'll fix it."

Tiny warm fingers curl against his chest as he whisks her away to their adjoined living room and kitchen, preparing a bottle and singing softly to her under his breath, mindless lullabies meant to soothe rather than to teach.  It's a strange contrast for him -- songs have always carried deeper meanings, always been meant to express something more comprehensible than words -- yet he's learned that there is something far more beautiful and ethereal about the quiet sounds than the decipherable noise.

The soft suckling noise of their baby nursing on the bottle, for instance, is a sound he treasures as dearly as the almost noiseless susurrations of Kurt's sleep-heavy breathing.  He rocks her as he sits on the edge of the couch, cradling her to his chest and marveling at her, at his fingers curled so tenderly around delicate shoulders, under tiny knees.

"Hush, hush, my darling," he murmurs, even as a soft, sleepy voice greets him from behind.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, startled and sleepy, as he pads noisily into the room.  "What are you -- oh."

"It's okay," Blaine assures.  "I've got her.  Go back to sleep."

Kurt ignores him, of course, instead rounding the couch so he can sit beside Blaine.  When he makes an open gesture with his hands, a universally understood give her to me in his eyes, Blaine hesitates before passing her carefully between them.

Kurt nestles her in his arms so gently, then, and Blaine wonders how he ever doubted that he would be anything but the perfect father.

"I love you," he breathes, leaning over to kiss Kurt's cheek even as Kurt hums, eyes only for their daughter before he turns to smile at Blaine, returning the kiss sleepily.

"I love you, too," he breathes, smiling, and Blaine knows that he'll have a headache in the morning and soon he'll long for the nights when Kurt volunteers to attend the first cry, but for now -- for now -- he's perfectly, exquisitely in love with him.

Snugging an arm around Kurt's waist and resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder, Blaine listens to him sing softly instead, lulled by the twin sounds of quiet tranquility.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Please let me know if there are any weird coding errors in the fic! I did my best to weed them out before publication, but some will inevitably slip through the cracks.


End file.
